Blue Eyed, Hands Tied
by Zandyne
Summary: [OneShot, NamineX?] Going from perch to perch but never finding a real home. Look at the baby bird that flutters and falls. Her love is very much the same. The only question is where it will ultimately crash when the bird stops flapping its little wings.


_One-shot. There are many implied pairings, a total of seven were intentional- five of them are Namine related. Was written based on the poetic blurb below. First shot at what can hopefully be called a drama/romance. Any reactions or feedback would be most appreciated._

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_**Blue-Eyed, Hands Tied**_  
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Singing on a windowsill my pretty little bird  
Looking oh so free and what's the other word?  
Clear eyes reflect the fullness of your soul  
Your happy heart is your only console.  
Sing your final joyful tune and song  
You will not be free for very long.

Sitting on a windowsill my pretty little bird  
Looking oh so sad and what's the other word?  
Blue eyes match the tears of your soul  
Your nonexistent history is black as coal.  
Flap your clipped and broken wings  
Your bitter cries are delicate rings.

Resting on a windowsill my pretty little bird  
Looking oh so crushed and what's the other word?  
Dead eyes represent your painfully dead soul  
Your enslavement to puppetry is your role.  
Draw your fake and shattered dreams  
Your little life will be extinguished it seems.

Laying on the windowsill my pretty little bird  
Looking oh so broken and what's the other word?  
Empty eyes are the true sign of no soul  
Your heart is nothing but a gaping hole.  
Fall little bird into my open waiting arm  
I promise not to do you any more harm.

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The cheerful islands were being swallowed up by a great and terrible creature made of the darkest sins and crimes. She ran to the only place she ever considered to be safe.

Apparently this place did not hold the same confidence in its security as a blinding miasma tore through her body.

The last thing she saw was the open arms and worried eyes of one of her best friends.

It would be the last blue she saw for what would feel like an eternity.

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Cold silence. That's all there was where she was curled up so helplessly in that empty place.

No. It wasn't empty, she simply could not see what was enveloping her being. She could feel innumerable hands and presences whispering touches against her skin. They sickened her beyond all reason, her stomach welled up with disgusting bile and repulsion that she wanted to rid herself of but could not. All for the same reason that called it in the first place- the horrible revulsion of those prickling touches of hands she could not see.

In her mind she screamed for someone to help her, anyone to save her from the terrible violation of her bleak consciousness-

A voice carrying the same grimness of aged tombstones called to her. "Child of the Dusks?"

She did not understand what the title meant; she held little regard for the connotations. In blind despair she lashed out her pale hands in front of her. For many eons of seconds she only felt the same horrid texture of tainted satin. She choked out a disheartened sob.

Suddenly a crushing abrasion snared onto her twig-like arm and wretched her through the emptiness like a foal from its constricting womb.

The sound of unmarred skin hitting the floor rang through the air like fresh pounds of flesh being thrown against the butcher's counter. The child coughed heavily into the smooth marble from where she lay. Her eyelids convulsing open and shut in a violent game of tug of war from the merciless wave of new light that assailed her senses.

She heard a muffled suction of air escaping from the space behind her. Above her near still form was the murmur of unknown voices from a council she could not turn her face up to see.

The refrained melancholy of stone memoriam spoke, "I give you the 'princess of the Dusks'."

A new voice that was upbeat but harsh like a swarm of hornets perked up from the silence, "She doesn't look like much, even less then Queen Bugxene- and I do mean _less_ in **_every_** aspect." She gave a quiet sob as an unfeeling tip of weathered rubber jabbed the small between her shoulders. The owner of the carefree stinging voice cackled to himself.

A new speaker whose tone was held in steadfast reserve quipped at his colleague in a rich voice of earthen rebuke, "Cease your unethical behavior Xigbar. She may appear to be nothing more than a child but she is more valuable then you or me." She found herself comforted by the mysterious voice that defended her.

The stinging voice growled at the earthen one's words. In their pause a twining voice complacent with the drawl of old tools accurate and directing questioned the remaining silences, "How do we know if she is the right one? She shows little promise." The agony in her eyes finally elevated enough for her to crack them open and look at the people who surrounded her.

They all wore uniform black coats which outlined each of their characteristic forms. A dark skinned man with a dazed look of ember was quietly watching the others from the outermost ring of the group. Next to him was a bony and scarred man with a patch over the only eye she could see, the other eye was hidden by his profile as he was giving a silent challenge to one of the others. That other was the tallest of them and he was a well built man with a severe frown, his small eyes did not falter as they met the other's glare. Standing alongside the mountain of a man was a smaller, but still brawny man with a tangle of dark braids. By him was a petite and fragile looking figure with hair that looked like it was fading the blue color it was where he stood. The last member of the group was a tall, gauntly and elderly looking man with long dirty blond hair.

He was the next to speak. She cringed at how much his voice seemed to slither with latent poison and serpentine musings, "Leave that to me Xaldin."

He turned his sickly green gaze down to her, venomous smirk curling with each word, "I assure you, anything she cannot tell us, science can do perfectly in her stead."

The smallest one gave the owner of the poisonous voice a bored glance. He spoke quietly like a piece of dark glass viewing the night sky, "Don't get too ahead of yourself Vexen, her limits are not to be strained too far."

The figure who spoke with quiet night knelt down to her. She tried in vain to move away but found her body unable to respond. He tenderly picked up a lock of dull blonde hair from the side of her face and pressed it between gloved hands. Her gaze wavered from the muddled gold hugged by vivid black up to the pale face and the flicker of light lingering in an orb of deepest blue.

"It would be such a waste if such a pretty little thing couldn't remain with us in one piece."

The dark glass was the final sound that echoed before darkness engulfed her fledgling vision.

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The sound of knuckles rapping against thick glass caused her eyes to crack open. She slowly rubbed at the bleariness in her vision, half-expecting the person who woke her to be the one who had placed her in the invisible cage in the first place.

A cheerful "Good morning sleeping cutie!" caused her to shove her hand down and snap her awareness to the other person on the opposite plane of the glass. Demyx gave her a broader smile once he saw that he had her attention. She smoothed out her tiny white garment out of habit. Visits from Demyx were all that she had to look forward to between the times she was conscious. She had no idea how many days had passed, but out of all of them, the only days really worth remembering were Demyx's sporadic visits.

The young man who visited her was bubbly and usually brought things to her such as stories or snacks he had managed to pilfer from rooms she had never seen. In the past, on rare instances he did not have a story or he was 'inspired' as his babble sessions had often mentioned, he would play an unusual instrument she had never seen before.

She knew he was a determined musician and that he put forth painful effort into playing what he once told her was a sitar. What truly saddened her however was that she could not hear any of the tunes he so delightfully took pride in. But she never told him that secret, it would probably break his kind heart.

What seemed like many years ago, she recalled him asking her what she thought of his music. She answered as best she could, saying that it was so beautiful and uplifting. She remembered him turning away from her and walking quickly out of the lab that day for what he claimed was an important mission.

She never knew what happened to him playing on the guitarlike instrument in the lab but she missed it.

Demyx had been babbling about the typicals of his day's mission, only vaguely mentioning the residents and events of the world he visited before taking a deserving breath. In that moment, she noticed the oddly wrapped bundle that was under his folded arm. Demyx noticed her drawn gaze and beamed proudly at her from the other side of the glass. With swift ease he brought up the package encased in sky hued tissue paper and various adornments of gold and silver ribbons. She felt a strange force well up in her chest as she pressed her hands and face against the glass to see the odd bundle better.

His blue eyes crinkled in delight at her response. He spoke once more with his familiar voice of warm sea foam and sunny yesterdays, "The world I was talking to you about was having a festival, so I got you something." Demyx's and her expression faltered as the spine of the parcel hit feebly against both edges of the only opening compartment in the invisible shield that was her transparent jail cell.

Demyx heaved a sigh and scratched the back of his neck with a hesitant hand. He muttered things to himself and cast another waning glace at her. She gave him the same helpless look that often found its way onto her face each time Vexen walked through the lab doors.

He raised up his hand and his trusted sitar appeared in a bubbly torrent of water. Demyx braced the hilt of the instrument against his leg. The wrapped gift was laid onto the floor and both of his gloved hands anxiously hovered over the white strings of his weapon. He flashed her a tired smile, his voice lowering to a pitch of the sun being covered by vengeful rain clouds, "Close your eyes and hold your breath until I say ok."

She did as she was told and a biting wave of icy water engulfed her.

The chills of drowning shot through her. The feeling of a chaotic tidal wave surged around her and battered her relentlessly. The loud roar of colliding watery forces rang in her ears.

She felt a comforting pressure wrap around her and all of it vanished instantly. She felt the presence move away, her knees nearly buckled from her own weight, but she stood her ground. She heard a weak "ok, you can open your eyes" and she did.

Straight ahead there was darkness speckled with a thousand glowing lights and the glow of a full moon. She whirled around and saw the silhouette of a great spire-top against the glow of night and a great menagerie of colorful flags and lanterns. "Where-?" She felt a light tap on her shoulder and was met with the tuft of gold and silver ribbons that was held to her by Demyx's lowered hand. "Don't worry about it. Just go on and open it."

Inside was a book of heavy and empty pages bound by metal spiral. She gave Demyx a questioning look. He gave her a small but genuine smile in return and waved a thoughtful open hand at her, "It's a sketchbook. You could write in it, buuuut I think you're more of an artist."

She looked down at the book, a faint heat rushing to her cheeks. She realized and hugged the book tightly to hide it. She opened her mouth to speak but Demyx pressed a finger to her lips, his other hand wiggled in playful scolding, "Ah ah, don't thank me yet."

He removed his hand and waved it to the area below the shadowed edge of the towering building, "I still have to show you the festival!" She moved to peer over the edge but Demyx caught her hand with his. He'd pulled his hood over his head and placed a boot firmly on the short wall of the roofing, "The best view's down there, front row dead center." She gave him a fearful look, he gave her a fearless one, "Don't look like that, it'll all be fine!"

She took a loud gulp. Demyx's grin inched larger, "Besides, it's the Festival of Fools, and Vexen says I'm the biggest one, so nothing'll go wrong! I promise!" She relaxed considerably at the promise and smiled meekly.

The festival was a grand medley of revelry, music and colors. Time was just a blur of masks, games, gypsies and jesters. Being in the bright lights and confetti caused her happiness to be reborn and her thoughts of cages and endless white rooms became all but a distant afterimage of a nightmare. But that nightmare did not forget about her.

A bone breaking vice-grip sunk onto her shoulder and she started to let out a yell, but another hand clapped over her open mouth. A shudder of brute strength crushed her and she was slung against a terrible cold floor. She staggered as she tried to get back onto her feet, only managing to flip over just in time to see Demyx being dragged away by a blue haired man with a demonic scar on his face. She stared at Demyx, thunderstruck and in desperation at her only friend.

Demyx smiled at her mutely and waved flimsily at her. The blue haired man looked from the subordinate to her, a fierce gleam of malice sparked in his dazed eyes. He smirked crookedly at her and held up an open hand that collapsed into a tight fist.

The deafening crack that elicited from strong knuckles striking the back of Demyx's skull was brutally clean. The blond crumbled where he stood and the blue haired tormentor continued to drag the unconscious body along the ground.

She cringed down to the floor of her cage. Scalding tears of apology, regret and anger all rolled down her face. She brought her small hands to her face and choked out incoherent nothings. Her sorrows continued to flow out of the corners of her eyes long after her little white dress had been soaked with them. She sobbed until she could no longer think.

She heard fast tapping against her window. Earnestly she bolted from where she lay to see if Demyx had come to visit again.

A tired face of sickly pale skin and green eyes that had long scoured over the pages of a thousand tomes of knowledge regarded her. She took a shaky gasp of air as she felt her eyes beginning to brim once more with tears of the joy long torn from her grasp. Vexen's mouth pressed into a deep line of a frown. He addressed her in the same, unchanging plague-laden spite he had always spoken to her or any other displeasing test subject with, "Your superficial tears are wasted little girl. Number IX brought about his own punishment and he will pay his price for it."

She bit back her sadness. Vexen shifted his attention to his vials and his various charts. She looked around her suffocating cage and nearly lost her control over her bitter tears once more.

Vexen didn't spare her a glance as he spoke to her once more, "If you're looking for that new notebook you stole, I'll have you know it is now in Zexion's possession. I have no idea who this 'Namine' is, but she certainly is not you."

She shrieked brokenly at him, "I'M NAMINE! DEMYX GAVE ME THAT BOOK! GIVE IT BACK!"

Vexen scoffed coldly, "A name _and _a book, how _touching_. Even if I retained something of a heart I might, by some slim chance to nothing, have given an iota of a care. But in justification to everything that is wholly scientific, **_you_** do not need a name."

He briefly paused at seeing a scarlet crystal saturate to a deep magenta in the vial he was holding before continuing, "In fact, you should be _grateful _I even bothered to ask Saix to bring you back unharmed despite the fact you so direly need some discipline."

She sniffed loudly and lay down on the floor so that she faced away from him. Vexen flipped loudly through the pages of a heavily text laden index. A concoction of blue and violet chemicals spilled over. Vexen acidly mused out loud at the sight of it, "Well, it appears we have many more tests to do little _Namine_."

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The blunt tip was dragged across the top of the paper in a strong arc of sand tinted wax. That artistic tool was discarded for one suited with the color of green. The shoddy emerald was lightly and rapidly sketched across the wave of brown-

"Namine, what are you drawing?"

The absinthe tip broke off and skittered fearfully across the smooth white floor. Namine looked up to the owner of the cool voice that reminded her of polished obsidian.

Ever since the tests with Vexen had ended, she had been handed off to Lexaeus, who was kind, but never spoke to her. She was kept in his room where she could admire the various busts and sculptures of late philosophers and theorists she had never heard of. There was also a collection of books in his room, but she could never bring herself to read through their alienating pages of people she never knew existed and of worlds that had already succumbed to the tides of destruction.

There was one book he owned that she had read through. The book had no title and was relatively thin. It had very few words, and instead had many pictures shoved into its scarce pages. They were hastily laminated photos that seemed to revolve around a small group of people. Most of them were pictures of them smiling or of what appeared to be special occasions.

She remembered carrying the book to Lexaeus one night and asking him why Zexion and Ienzo had the same look of feigned disinterest or why he and someone named Elaeus had the same silent smile. Lexaeus had been speechless, but she remembered how much older and debilitated he looked at that time when she had shown him the book.

It had been the last night she had spent with Lexaeus before she was forced into Zexion's care.

Much like Lexaeus, Zexion kept her locked up in a room. This time it had been in a completely separate room whose original purpose she did not know, but it held no bed or shelves or much other furniture save for a chair and an oval table. She always wondered why there was only one chair for such a large table, but such ponderings did her little good. Zexion had given her back the book Vexen had confiscated from her, as well as a tiny box of crayons and a single pencil.

Those enigmas could hold their silent secrets for as long as they wished. As long as she had her book and her colors, it was all that really mattered to her.

She was glad Zexion was just as kind as Lexaeus and that he had even let her draw in her book. But she was still in a cage. Only this time, the keeper of the lock referred to her by the name Demyx had tried to give her.

Zexion picked up one of the many leaves of paper off of the table she worked at. He gave the half-formed image blotted out by deep gashes of crayon a cursory glance before repeating himself, this time his voice laced more with the crude obsidian then the glass, "What are you drawing?"

Namine set down her crayons flat onto her book. She didn't look at Zexion as she replied, for some reason, she felt afraid to, "A sunset on an island."

He didn't reply from where he stood as he looked at the ruined image once more.

Zexion paced around the snow colored table so that he stood in front of where Namine was seated. He carefully let down the picture and it fluttered back onto the table. He quickly waved his hand behind him and a gnarled chair of black metal appeared. He took his seat wordlessly and he folded his hands in front of him to rest his chin on.

With a renewed balance of refined ebony and glass, he asked her a curious question, "Namine, would you do me a favor?" She nodded an affirmation to him. Zexion was kind to her, he had returned the book Demyx had wanted to give to her. That and there was a sort of distant melancholy in his demeanor that felt so familiar and sympathizing.

Zexion's stare bore hard into her averted gaze, "I'd like to tell you a story...and I want you to draw a certain picture of it after I am done with it. Alright?"

She nodded once more.

He took a deep breath and began his tale, "Once upon a time there was an elaborate castle in a great field of grass and crossroads. In this castle was a fair maiden who was kept in the company of a king, a queen and their advisor...as well as an elder council to check the royalty's power.

However, what made this castle interesting was that all seven of them were trapped inside it. You see, they were cursed in that if they wandered too far on any of the many levels of the castle, their memories would become altered beyond recognition and they would wander in the labyrinth of the castle for all of eternity.

They would be cursed to stay there until one pure of heart and great of strength could free them.

But, the curse's warning had come too late. Only the fair maiden still held onto her sense of being, the others had spiraled into a demented hysteria. So, being the fair maiden she was, she managed to trick the king into luring a brave knight to the castle, saying that she wanted to marry a certain prince. The king believed it and sent out many messages to attract a possible knight.

Eventually, one did come to this Castle Oblivion.

But he did not completely understand that the people of the castle were cursed. So he began to attack with all his might against them, but luckily the fair maiden was able to persuade the knight that they were not truly evil.

With that, the knight was able to free them from their curse and...they all lived happily ever after."

Namine blinked in confusion at Zexion's very brief story. She tilted up her gaze to see that Zexion had buried his face in his hands and that the small frame of his body was shaking. She reached out a hand to his quivering shoulder, "Zexion, I-"

Zexion did not lift his face and his thickened voice came from behind leathered hands that obscured his expression, "Please, you're the only one that can help us."

She looked at the little crayon her hand was wrapped around and the sheet beneath it. "I'll do my best- Zexion?" She stared at the empty space where he had been. She shifted back to her sketchpad, content with her own assumption that he probably had been called on a mission.

What felt like many days had passed, by the time she had finished the last touches on what could have been considered her masterpiece, practically all of her crayons were near their expiration as utensils for creation. Over the entire course of creating her gift, Zexion had not once visited her. She assumed it may have been a particularly difficult mission, or maybe he had been assigned to do several tasks.

Namine futilely rubbed her dirty palms to rid them of the multicolored blotches that stained them. The composition itself was of an expansive field of green that led to a black shadow of what she could best convey as a castle. On the solitary road was the outline of her brave knight. Namine looked away from the heavily colored picture to the ceiling devoid of design. All she could do now was wait for Zexion to come back to see her picture and bring her more crayons.

A handful of days passed before Zexion reappeared in the room. This time however, instead of his customary portal vanishing after he entered, it lingered. Namine stared at the undulating waves of oily purple and black. Zexion folded his arms worriedly, voice chiming and crinkling like thin glass, "Did you finish?" She held up the picture for him and he nodded confidently despite how he eyed the portal warily out of the corner of his eye.

"Namine, I'm afraid I can no longer be your...guardian." She opened her mouth to protest but his heavy hand on her head quieted her instantly. His voice heightened in timid pitch as he tried to edge out the words he was obligated to say, "But...don't worry, the person who will take care of you next...he's a good person. He'll be better suited to protect you anyway. You'll need someone like him if you want to leave this malevolent place."

Namine hugged his waist. He felt the material of his coat beginning to soften with new moisture. Zexion gently rubbed her head and the additional water ceased. He slowly pulled her off and he gave her a faction of a smile, "We should go meet him."

She gathered up her only valuables and what remained of her crayon box, Zexion promised that her new guardian would get her a new box. Both went through the chilling gateway and found themselves in a new room with Lexaeus, Vexen and three people she had never seen before.

One was deathly skinny but had the brightest spikes of red she'd ever seen, he had a cheerful expression of laughter on his face which was highlighted by two green markings on his face. The girl standing next to him had blonde hair that was styled with what Namine could only seem to identify as bug antenna. The third and tallest of the trio was a smirking man with a wild brush of pinkish hair.

Zexion nudged her to the man with pinkish hair, who looked at her with a somewhat surprised expression. Zexion placed a hand on her head and motioned his free hand to the other, "Namine, this is Marluxia, your new guardian." She muttered a quiet hello to him, Zexion continued to the other two, "He is Axel and the other is Larxene, they will be helping Marluxia during your stay in Castle Oblivion."

Namine froze. She spun around to question Zexion, and in doing so, Larxene snatched the sketchbook from her hands. The loose sheets of completed drawings scattered about the floor and Namine frantically tried to pick them up. Larxene cackled at her and dug her heels sharply into any sheets that had landed near her. Namine looked desperately up at Zexion, "Zexion, please help me!"

Zexion gave her a distasteful look as if she were a particularly insignificant species of pest, "Help you? What for? I obtained what I needed. Now Marluxia just has to retrieve what he desires from you."

She pleaded with him and any other cruelty some higher force was treating her with, "I-I thought you wanted to be freed from your curse!"

He rolled his visible eye, "You believed that drivel?" a curt laugh accompanied the mocking question. Zexion glared at her, all amusement lost, he drawled out each syllable to better enunciate her folly, "Naïve child. That was nothing more than a shallow farce. In simpler words, a **_lie_**."

She stared at him as he turned on his heel to walk to his colleagues' side. She felt a dark weight on her shoulders that hoisted her roughly up. Namine felt her face being cupped by a strong hand that turned her eyes up to its owner's face.

Marluxia leaned forward as he whispered into her ear. She could feel his preying grin even though she could not see it, "So glad you could join us _princess_."

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Drawing endless lines. Drawing endless pictures. Drawing on endless sheets of paper with an endless supply of color pencils. All for the purpose of her brave knight who had still not appeared. And each day that passed without his arrival, Larxene would pay a visit to her that she felt would never end. All Namine could do was sit in her chair and hope that the ordeal would be as brief as possible- or that Marluxia or Axel would come back.

Both were malicious in their own way, but Marluxia's was more passive and therefore the lesser of the two evils. That much she had learned during her stay in the barren rooms of Castle Oblivion. Axel was there was well, but he had kept to himself and was rarely in the same room as her. The rare times she had see him, it was only out of the corner of her eyes, and then he would be gone again.

Those scarce instances had ended after the single brief moment where the red head had actually spoken with her. "I'm sorry that I can't save you too."

Namine never understood what he meant, or why he had said those specific words in a way that only drifting ashes could describe. Whatever hidden meaning it meant however, Larxene had managed to catch wind of. After that, Marluxia seemed to make sure that Axel would constantly have some mission or task to occupy his time.

She wasn't as sad as the previous times she'd lost her only means of solace. Morbidly, she had come to expect it. What had been her more unpleasant surprise was when Marluxia would be drawn away from Namine for other pressing matters she could not fathom. It was during those times that hope seemed the bleakest.

"Surprise little Namine."

There was an almost ritual feel to what Larxene did when she and her were all alone. Today would be no different.

Her utterances were like ringing blades bearing into each other. It was an abrasive taunt that was always accompanied by the steady beat and scrape of hard heels against a pristine floor, "So how is our little witch progressing hmm?" She heard the tip of treacherous rubber briefly trace the surface of the floor as it was planted in front of the other. Larxene always paced around the same unmarked area of where Namine sat, almost as if there was an implied barrier.

Namine forced herself to maintain her shaky gaze onto her sketches, she did not want to peer up to see what was already so systematic for Larxene- The same expression of smugness where every dark gamble and secret seemed to have been poured into a single crescent. It was all just another component of Larxene's sadistic custom.

She felt thin leather digits slide over her bare shoulder. Namine flinched against the sudden cold, Larxene had never stepped over the unmarked boundary before. She had little time to think or suppress new fear as she heard a hiss against her ear. "Better hurry up and call your pathetic knight in shining armor if you don't want to be killed like the witch you are."

She heard the unforgiving crackling of torment and clamped her eyes shut at the sound of it. A shallow cackle rose to her ears only to be interrupted by the nostalgic calm of suffocating thorns and barely restrained animosity.

"Larxene, our guest has arrived in this world, why don't you leave him a trail of breadcrumbs to help him on his way to the castle?"

Larxene scoffed, but did as she was told. The sound of her departure let Namine somewhat relax from her tensed state.

Her comfort was to be short lived.

Marluxia treaded lazy steps until he towered over Namine's small form. He placed a hand over the edge of her bone stained chair and began to converse to her in a tone befitting crowns laced with toxins, "To help make things a touch easier for you to understand, I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

She felt the chair move as he gestured with his free hand, "It's about a feeble thing called a heart, I don't have one, Larxene doesn't have one...and supposedly neither do you. See, without a heart, we don't really have emotions, so we can't feel a damn thing."

She heard the leather of his coat hiss as he placed both of his hands back onto the top of her chair, "Irritation, despair or any sort of real pleasure really..." He took a deep breath and exchanged it for a gratifying chuckle, "I should know from what's been done to Larxene."

She felt him gingerly pull back some of the loose strands of her hair behind her ear, "But, with you, it's a bit different. When I'm around you, I think I can taste a hint of what emotion is." Her hair fell back, but she bolted out of the chair.

Namine clenched her hands protectively around her skinny arms. Marluxia wasted no time closing the new distance between him and her. She stood petrified in place as he bemusedly observed her apparent fear, "My curiosity is this, what if it was a little more then just...simply being around you?"

She felt a rigid hand behind her neck. Murky blue eyes lurched forward at her and consumed her will. She felt the air in her lungs being instantly crushed out of them by an intensity so harsh she couldn't take another breath of air. She feebly struggled, but the black that enveloped her was of a far greater strength then her flickering own.

Marluxia released her and she crashed to the floor, wheezing for air and gasping for recovery from where she limply laid.

Strangling death rang through the air with satisfaction and warning, "Keep that in mind while you're toying with his memories- Either figure out how to enslave the keybearer or you'll be the one to serve in place of my heart."

Namine heard the tear of space that Marluxia created to travel wherever he was heading. She heard the start of his heavy steps and how they paused at what she assumed was the very brink of the portal.

An even dirge of nightshade met her ears, "Don't disappoint me Namine, death isn't the only punishment for failure."

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Namine opened her eyes and lifted her head from where she had fallen asleep at the tiny table. She turned up her gaze to where her knight slept. She gave him a sweet greeting that he could not have heard through the petals of thick glass, and even if it had, he was peacefully locked in deep slumber.

He was the keybearer, or at least, he was for the most part. Her knight's name was Sora.

She had met him so long ago when she was trapped in Castle Oblivion by Marluxia and Larxene. She had both Axel and Sora to thank. Axel who had temporarily freed her from Marluxia's power, and Sora for vanquishing Marluxia.

Never before was she so elated to be around someone who had cared for her with such a bright smile that made her previous sorrows wither away, or eyes so filled with the clarity of a true hero.

She watched him with a half-formed smile of gratitude and guilt.

Namine had done terrible things to his memory and tried to replace the one person he had truly cared about.

She too was only half of someone, that someone was Kairi. She was only the shadow of a girl she never knew she had been a part of and had never met. But, some part of her helpless soul knew that she was indeed, something not meant to exist.

Namine laced her fingers around a pencil she knew all too well, cradled in her lap was a notebook that she would never forget. She had wrongfully manipulated Sora's memories and now was the time to set them right again. In doing so her valiant knight would never remember her, but, she was obligated to do that one task for Sora.

Having completed another sketch, she tore the page out and it fluttered up to the crystal flower Sora dreamt in emptily.

She and Sora, they were both only half a person, but only one of them was real. She was no more real then Roxas.

Roxas was Sora's other, a false self of a half. She hadn't seen much of him, but he was no knight like Sora was.

A rich voice marred by static echoed throughout the room, "Your progress is nearly done, you must leave that room or the memory chains will break again."

Namine nodded to the voice that was toned as a command rather than a suggestion. She slowly got to her feet, in one hand was the image of Sora's last old memory, in the other was her sketchbook of all the memories she _wanted_ to have had with Sora. Namine let go of the remaining piece of true memory.

The page flew away from her and absorbed itself into the pod.

The air shook violently and Riku quickly yanked her out of the room and deposited her in the familiar void that was the corridors of darkness.

She was left to herself in the paradox of well-lit halls that were a pulsating testament to the abyss. Namine glared ruefully at the sketchbook in her hands.

Her hand twitched over the picture of a sunset of an island she could only dream to see.

She ripped all of the pages apart without another moment of hesitation.

It was all for Sora and it would all be over.

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

Warm wind whipped about her face. The smell of salt and citric tropics mingled in the air as the pleasant scent of a home she had at long last returned to.

No more Heartless, no more Nobodies, only peace.

She stared at the bobbing waves expectantly, and called out to the two friends that had recently hurdled into the ocean.

Sora huffed tiredly as he dragged himself out of the water and gave her a grin twined with a happy laugh.

"We're back."

She found her hand already being held out to him from the blissful warmth that blossomed from her entire soul.

Kairi gladly embraced the fluttering emotion and smiled back at him.

"You're home."

**  
**


End file.
